


I Give Thee My Love

by Anonymous



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), But only in a fantasy, F/M, Happy Ending, M/M, Masturbation, Penis In Vagina Sex, Pregnancy Kink, She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), Sort Of, This is a weird one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-25 08:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22233172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Aziraphale finds himself suddenly stricken with fantasies of a family of their own while working with Crowley at the Dowling Household.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Nanny Ashtoreth/Brother Francis (Good Omens)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 139
Collections: Anonymous





	I Give Thee My Love

**Author's Note:**

> This fic could potentially be triggering for a few reasons, the big one is pregnant. While there are no miscarriages, it's clearly a fantasy that is impossible due to the two of them being ethereal/occult beings. 
> 
> This fic is Aziraphale fantasising first about Brother Francis and Nanny Ashtoreth having sex with a pregnancy occuring that morphs into Crowley actually being the one with child. 
> 
> Crowley presents female because of his role as Nanny and uses she/her pronouns.

The thought hit him quite suddenly, Warlock and Crowley had visited for tea and were currently playing hide and seek a few yards away. Crowley, as usual, was stunning. Beautiful and so fully alive that it made Aziraphale's heart leap in his chest. She was laughing, openly and without care as she chased after her charge as he raced around the garden. 

The two of them made him happy, lighter. She caught up to the child, scooping him into her arms. 

_ She would make a wonderful mother _ , thought Aziraphale with a warm smile. As soon as the image crossed his mind, he promptly dropped the hose he was holding. Lust shot through him, followed by a feeling he refused to name.

He glanced over at the pair once more, Crowley had Warlock over her head spinning as he kicked and laughed above her. She then lowered the child into the grass and began tickling him unmercifully. Her perfectly coiffed hair had fallen into tendrils around her face as the boy giggled and squealed under her fingertips.

Aziraphale looked away embarrassed, she was his best friend. Even if it  _ were _ possible… he shook the thoughts away then took a breath to steady himself. He ignored the lump in his throat and the hollow feeling just below his breast.

He refused to allow the thoughts to creep in, pushing them away at the risk of indulging. For if he did, he knew from past experiences he’d be unable to stop himself.

And it worked; for all of three weeks.

She’d come over for tea, bringing her young ward with her. Aziraphale watched as she carefully cut his sandwich up into pieces more fitting of a child of three. She served him small nibbles from her plate when he became more interested in her food than the peanut butter and jelly on his own. She dabbed at his face and tsked at his messy fingers. When he was through, she tucked him into Aziraphale’s unused bed for his nap, softly singing to the boy as her fingertips brushed his face and hair, coaxing him to sleep with a smile.

_ She would be a wonderful mother.  _

Crowley was radiant, she had the glow of motherhood as she bent to kiss the child goodnight and it set Aziraphale ablaze.

It burned him, a lust so strong he could hardly swallow, topped with an extra helping of longing. By God, he wanted that, a child. Not just any child, Crowley’s child.

He wanted to watch her belly grow, feel the movements of their child beneath the swell of her womb.

Aziraphale swallowed hard, his face flushing as he felt a stirring in his loins.

“Just going to pop into the restroom a moment,” he shouted before sprinting into the bathroom then slamming the door.

“Shhh!” Crowley huffed, watching the child stir beneath the blankets. He was almost asleep and she’d be very upset with the angel if he messed that up.

Twenty minutes later, Crowley snuck out of the tiny bedroom, shutting the door behind her with a grin. “Didn’t think he’d ever fall asleep, different bed and all. Thank you for having us, it’s nice to spend time with you that doesn’t involve sneaking around.”

Aziraphale nodded, unsure of what to say he spoke of the child, “He loves you very much.” 

“I know, I’m fond of the tyke myself,” smiled Crowley fondly. “Between you and me, I wish it wasn’t him. He’s a good kid Aziraphale, he doesn’t deserve the life he’s got. I’m raising him, and I can’t imagine him ending the world. I don’t want this burden on him.”

Aziraphale sighed, “that’s why we are here my dear, to stop him from ending the world.”

Crowley refilled her teacup, adding a splash of milk and sugar before taking a small sip. “If he’s not what hell or heaven wants, they will punish him.”

“Perhaps not, we don’t know these things…”

“Only  _ She _ does, it’s ineffable my dear,” she mocked, “I want to take him away from here, away from a mother who cares more about society than her child and from a father who is frankly entirely unfit to parent.”

“Crowley,” he whispered. What could he say? That's what I want as well? to steal you both away and never look back? 

She smiled sadly at him, “Ignore me, I’m just feeling melancholy. He’s growing up too fast Aziraphale, I don’t want to see him die. I won’t.”

Aziraphale knew that, Crowley protected those dear to her without care for her own wellbeing. He reached across the small table to grasp her hand, his calloused fingers wrapping firmly around hers. "I refuse to believe this is her plan, I... This won't be the end, my dear."

Crowley nodded, turning her palm over to lace their fingers together briefly before he pulled away. 

_ I love you _ , he wished to say. 

Aziraphale replayed the conversation in his head often, it hadn’t stayed his longing. If anything, he felt it more keenly, he felt it in the marrow of his bones, an ache that threatened to break him. He tried to ignore it, but it became a near-constant in his mind. A want he could never have and he was at risk of throwing caution to the wind for a small taste of his deepest desires. 

It was a Sunday evening, with a long week ahead of him, he needed a drink. Aziraphale had decided to miracle himself to his shop, he needed to be away from the estate, away from Crowley and Warlock and the neat little home he often pictured as theirs.

The first thing he did was drink a large glass of wine, gulping the liquid down before scrubbing his hands over his face. He needed to get his mind off of them. They weren't his and would never be his.

The angel picked a book and retired to his bedroom, planning to spend the evening on his bed, lost in another world.

The book held no interest to him. Instead, his mind began to wander, falling headfirst into a dream he could never have. 

> He could see her, bright and beautiful in the garden. He recalled the way her hips swayed as she spun the child around in her strong arms, the way her skirt had hiked up just to show enough of her bare thighs, lithe and soft.
> 
> Francis shyly asking her out for a drink or perhaps dinner when she was off later that evening. She would flush prettily, slowly nodding her acceptance.
> 
> He would take her into town, perhaps dancing and dinner, an excuse to hold her close. She would melt into his embrace, during a slow song she’d lay her head on his shoulder as they swayed in the dimly lit hall as other couples moved similarly.
> 
> He’d court her, Francis was an old-fashioned man, after all, he’d take things slowly. She may have been a decade younger than himself, but it wouldn’t matter, they were in love and life was as it should be.

Aziraphale shifted, his pants becoming tight and uncomfortable.

> She had snuck into his cottage on the edge of the estate, Warlock long asleep. “I missed you,” she breathed in her Scottish lit.
> 
> Francis would tuck the tendrils of hair behind her ear before leaning in to kiss her. “Coraline,” he whispered against her lips, breath ghosting across her face. He was no stranger to touch, it had been a long time but it was like riding a velocipede. She looked nervous, uncertain but willing. His lips brushed hers, tentatively before taking her head in his hands and kissing her as she deserved. She fell into the kiss, a whimpering moan escaping from behind her lips as he slipped a tongue into her mouth.
> 
> Her hands would grasp at the lapels of his shirt, holding him in place while also grounding her.
> 
> One hand moved around her, to pull her closer, holding her against him while his other hand moved to kneed at her breast.
> 
> The room changed, they were in his tiny bedroom in the cabin. Aziraphale unbuttoned his pants, shrugging them down enough to ease the ache between his thighs.
> 
> Frances deftly unbuttoned her blouse, finding a simple black bra supporting her soft breasts. He leaned down long enough to suck a nipple through the thin fabric, Coraline squirmed, her fingers near bruising his shoulders as she cried out.
> 
> He stood, capturing her mouth again before picking her up and placing her in the middle of the bed. She looked so vulnerable there, small and unsure of what to do.
> 
> He smiled down at her as he quickly disrobed leaving only his boxers on before meeting her in the middle. Her tweed skirt was rough against his legs, “My dear, we should get this off of you at once,” he laughed. She did too, helping him push the offending object off her hips and into the floor.
> 
> Her shoes had been kicked off ages before but her stockinged feet remained. He unhooked the clip holding them in place before gently rolling the fabric down her slim leg, placing kisses against her heated skin as it was revealed to him. Once her stockings were off he found himself placing tender kisses against her neck, unhooking the bra before tossing it haplessly behind him. He sucked at her breasts, he lavished at her nipple, taking the small bud in his mouth and rolling it against his tongue. He wondered what they would look like swollen for their child. He moved lower, kissing just below her ribs then to the softness of her belly.
> 
> She whimpered, “Francis please.”
> 
> “In good time, darling,” he chuckled before moving his hands to her hips. His thumbs stroked her hip bones while he pressed kisses lower and lower until he was met with the simple cloth of her panties.
> 
> “Coraline, darling, may I?” he asked softly. She nodded furiously. She lifted her hips up as he tugged the remaining barrier from her body. “Oh darling, look at you.” Her ginger curls were coated with her slick, her chest was heaving and flushed, eyes lidded and her typically perfect hair fell in curls around her bare shoulders.
> 
> He moved down on the bed, “open your legs for me, darling, let me taste you.”
> 
> She nodded, opening her legs wide for him to fit between. His hands moved to her thighs, keeping them pinned to the bed so she couldn’t move as he tentatively licked her slit.
> 
> She gasped, “Oh!” as a hand moved to cover her face.
> 
> He pressed a finger into her as he continued to explore her pretty little cunt. His tongue wrapped around her clit, causing her to raise up off the bed. He continued his onslaught, pressing another finger into her tight hole as he worked to bring her to completion. With the way she was responding, he wondered if perhaps she had truly never been touched before. If she had, he was certain it had been quite some time ago.
> 
> He curled his fingers into her, pressing against the rough spot within her as he sucked hard on her swollen clit.
> 
> “Francis,” she heaved, “I’m… oh, Satan!”
> 
> She tightened around his fingers, liquid gushing from within her as she came with a sharp intake of breath. He continued moving his fingers, prolonging her orgasm as long as he could before slowly removing them from her sensitive cunt.
> 
> He sat up and grinned at her, his hands moving slowly up and down the insides of her thighs.
> 
> “That was… oh!” she pressed her hands against her eyes, trying to catch her breath.
> 
> “When you’re ready dear,” he said as he set to removing his boxers revealing his swollen cock. Precum beaded at the tip of his length, he was thicker than most and eager to burry himself within his lover.
> 
> She bit her lip and nodded, eying his cock wearily.
> 
> “Coraline, darling… have you?” he asked.
> 
> She shook her head.
> 
> He smiled, “I’ll go slow, tell me when you’re ready.”
> 
> “I want you now,” she whispered.
> 
> He moved over her, spreading her legs to accommodate him before placing one of her legs over his shoulder.
> 
> His eyes caught hers as he wrapped a hand around his length and began to press into her. “Relax darling, you’re clenching.”
> 
> She nodded, eyes never leaving his. He felt her relax, one hand moved to her clit, pressing against it as he slowly fucked into her.

Aziraphale had never been with a woman, he wondered what it felt like as he tightened his fist around his throbbing cock. He wondered if Crowley had ever been taken by anyone, had they been easy with his dear friend? He shook his head, falling back into the fantasy. They were just humans here, no apocalypse to worry about or fear, just two humans making love for the first time.

> Francis marveled as she opened for him, the way her expressive face shown as he slowly pushed into her, inch by inch as he buried himself to the hilt within her. “is this alright, darling?” he asked, concern lacing his features. He was shaking with restraint, every part of him wanted to pull out and slam back into her, to take her until the ache between his legs had been eased.
> 
> “Move,” she answered. “Please just move,” she hissed. 
> 
> So he did, a slow rhythm of pull and push, he moved her legs to wrap around him, pulling him deeper within her as he kissed her lovingly.
> 
> His hands were kneading at her breasts, caressing her ribs and belly. 
> 
> He whispered words of love to her as he pushed into her yielding body. 
> 
> _ "I love you." _
> 
> _ "You're so beautiful for me." _
> 
> _ "Thank you for giving me this." _
> 
> _ "Darling, dearest, beloved." _
> 
> He ground against her with each deep thrust, he was getting close with each movement. Francis reached down between their legs to caress her sensitive nub. Coraline’s orgasm took him by surprise, he found himself pushing as deeply as he could into her as he came. He collapsed onto her, unable to hold himself up as she tightened around him. 
> 
> They were breathing hard, his hair tickling her face as his body pressed her into the mattress. Heavy, but comfortable. 
> 
> She chuckled, her soft hand finding its way into his curls, he didn’t want to move. His softening cock was still buried within her and he was loathed to leave her warmth.

Aziraphale pressed the back of his head into his pillow, his pants and chest were coated with his release and his entire body was thrumming with pleasure. He tried to catch his breath but found himself returning to the little world in which he’d created.

> Francis finally withdrew, standing briefly to fetch a flannel to clean the mess with. He cleaned her, then moved to lay behind her.

The scene changed, causing Aziraphale to sob. 

> He was holding her again, but it was different. The sun shown in through the curtains of their cottage, she was sipping tea as Francis ate little nibbles or their lunch. As she shifted, he placed his hand to rest on her slightly swollen abdomen, resting his head against her shoulder.
> 
> “I love you,” he whispered.
> 
> She laughed, turning to kiss his cheek, “I love you too.”

The room changed again, instead of the familiar cottage they were in his sitting room, just outside where he lay.

> Warlock was playing at his feet as Crowley walked into the room, she was heavily pregnant with a soft smile playing at her lips. She was radiant.
> 
> “Warlock, kiss your papa goodnight.”
> 
> The child threw himself into his arms, squeezing his neck tightly before, “night papa, love you,” He said before running into the bedroom.
> 
> Crowley shook her head, hand resting over her belly. “I’m glad we took him, he’s much happier here with us, Aziraphale. You make a wonderful father.”
> 
> She reached up to cup his face and he knew at once it was too much.

Aziraphale shook his head as his eyes burned, tears threatening to fall.

He wanted this life, badly. 

Not only was it near impossible to kidnap the antichrist, but Crowley was a demon, an ethereal being. Regardless of how Crowley looked on that particular day, there would never be a child growing beneath their breast. It was impossible, nor could he put a child into Crowley’s womb. They weren’t created for that.

His mind had created a cruel world, a world they would never have. Had they been human, perhaps. A life where they could raise the child, they both secretly loved as their own, perhaps even have another. A little girl with strawberry blonde curls and bright blue eyes, or a little boy with golden eyes and white hair.

As the years past, it became Aziraphale’s most loved fantasy. On the nights when the world became too much to bear, too cruel, he would close his eyes and pretend. The remaining eight years flew by, to his horror and relief; Warlock was not the antichrist. He was safe, allowed to remain a child just a while longer.

He and Crowley shared their first kiss on a dark bus returning from Tadfield. One very long day later, they found release in the other’s arms, gasping and panting for breath for the first of many times to go. 

While a child of their own never came, Aziraphale found that sometimes reality was much better than any of the fantasies he could have conjured in his head. 

At age twelve, Warlock Dowling stumbled into an old bookshop and into the lives of a very special angel and demon, oftentimes spending more time with his Godfathers than with his parents. 

At age sixteen, he met his future husband, of course, it would take years of friendship and a tentative drunken kiss for either to admit they had feelings for the other. 

At twenty-four, he realized he loved his best friend and wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. They were married when they were twenty-six, only three weeks after their shared birthday.

When they were thirty-one, they adopted a little boy. They decided to name Anthony Frances Dowling-Young, much to the teasing of Pepper and Brian. Crowley had scoffed and done his best not to cry when the tiny babe was placed in his arms. Aziraphale, on the other hand, wept with joy and cried on his Husband's shoulder as tiny fingers wrapped around his own. 

Aziraphale and Crowley babysat often, marveling at the family they’d somehow managed to receive.

While there were times Aziraphale wished things had been different, he never would give up the gift he'd been given. 

**Author's Note:**

> While writing this, the part where I named Adam and Warlock's son. All I could think of was the bit from the Epilogue of Harry Potter, "you were named after the two most ridiculous men we know, Crowley and Aziraphale." 
> 
> Also, i'm shit at titles. Just so you know.


End file.
